


The Aftermath

by SimplexityJane



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, F/M, Jace Wayland is bisexual and conflicted about it, M/M, Only tagging pov-characters, and the downworld in general tbh, stuff's about to go down in the pack, the calm before the storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 16:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10167452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplexityJane/pseuds/SimplexityJane
Summary: After everything that happened, what they really need is a nap. Unfortunately, most of them aren't going to get that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> That winter finale though. I hated parts of it and loved others, especially that love confession, which was enough to tide me over until June. I really wanted to write a chilling Sebastian addition, but this felt complete where it was, so maybe another time.

Simon and Clary were in the sunlight, which should have shocked Jace but somehow didn’t. He’d seen how fast Simon had been going after Valentine, had known something was off about him then and there, and this just confirmed it. Somehow, Simon Lewis, annoying mundane turned annoying vampire, had become a legend.

Well, Jace knew how it had happened. He’d had Alec draw a blood-replenishing rune after he came back into the Institute with Magnus at his side, after all. Wouldn’t want that precious angel blood to go to waste in a dead guy’s body, after all.

He breathed in deep, shuddering through it. It was still a shock, knowing that he – Jace Wayland, _him_ – somehow had pure angel blood running through his veins. Valentine wasn’t his father, which meant he didn’t have demon blood, wasn’t a Morgenstern, couldn’t destroy the Soul Sword like Ithuriel had told them…

There was something wrong with that thought, but Jace would come back to it later. Right now he was just gonna… yeah, he was gonna go back inside, where the bodies that he had put there were still cooling.

Maybe he should activate his speed rune and run to Central Park instead.

“Jace!” someone called, and he turned, still in the doorway of the Institute. Clary and Simon were smiling at him, and god, Clary was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. And he _could_ look at her, now, was the thing, except that she was with Simon, which was a wholly different problem. He’d been the one to call out to Jace, too, beaming in the sun. “Look!”

Jace really couldn’t help himself.

“You’re welcome,” he said, coming up to the two of them. He looked at Clary, then at Simon, and then away from the two of them. “Don’t tell anyone, okay. It’s gonna get out that I don’t have demon blood, but…”

“If other vampires found out you could give them back the sun, you’d be dead within a week,” Simon said, nodding. He touched Jace’s arm, eyes big and brown and so fucking _sincere_. “I swear I won’t tell anyone, Jace.”

“I just can’t believe Valentine fooled us like that,” Clary said. “I mean, even Mom thought… she was so _sure_.”

“Her son probably did have demon blood in him,” Jace said. Clary’s eyes were wide with something that wasn’t quite fear but wasn’t hope, either. Jace knew her expressions intimately by now. “Valentine had the Soul Sword and told me I’m not his son after all. You’d think Ithuriel would have mentioned that in that vision he gave us.”

Clary stiffened, and Jace raised his eyebrows at her. That… wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Simon was biting his lip, too, and they shared a look that Jace could only recognize because of his bond with Alec.

“You don’t think…” Simon was almost whispering.

“He said he was doing it for his _children_ , Si.” Clary nodded. “And I don’t think _angels_ would give us false hope.”

It hit Jace like a punch to the chest, and he didn’t know why.

“You think your brother is still alive,” he said. Clary nodded, and Jace felt like he was gonna be sick. “Then why… why would Valentine?” He couldn’t breathe suddenly, hand coming up to his shoulder to rub at his chest, over the star-shaped scar that he couldn’t remember getting from anywhere – probably another _gift_ from his father. Father? How could he have a father when he wasn’t anyone’s son? “Why would he raise me if he already had a son?”

Simon’s hand was big and strong, and Jace hadn’t had a problem with being whatever he was for a long time, so he didn’t flinch.

“Well, I mean, he probably knew your parents, if he somehow made you have pure angel blood. Speaking of, we should really figure out if Clary has that, because like, that could be a problem in the future… But anyway, I mean, you have _pure angel blood_ , and Valentine probably knew about the Soul Sword before you were born, so…”

“He was using me,” Jace said. He nodded. It made sense, after all. Valentine had _just_ proved that he could use Jace’s nature against him. That he’d been planning this for _twenty-one years_ … He shouldn’t be surprised.

He was, though. That was the worst part of all of this. He was _surprised_ that the man who had raised him, who told him he loved him, had done it all to destroy people.

 _To love is to destroy_.

But that was what Valentine taught him when Jace still believed he was his son, which meant it had to be wrong, right? If Valentine had ever loved Jace, he wouldn’t have used him to kill people. He would have let Jace choose, instead of tricking him.

“Valentine doesn’t love anyone,” Clary said, echoing the train of thought Jace had been spiraling toward. “I don’t know if it’s because he _can’t_ , or if he’s sick, or what, but he’s a monster. He uses people up and then throws them away, and that’s _wrong_. We don’t have to be like him, though. We can _choose_ , Jace.”

She was smiling at him, mouth trembling with it, because they both knew that it wasn’t that simple. Both of them had more angel blood than their peers, and Jace didn’t want to think about how that had happened, honestly, but they were still just shadowhunters. Hell, they were an example of what Izzy said was called nature versus nurture, one of them with Valentine’s blood and the other with his _lessons_. If either one of them turned out okay, it would be a miracle.

“Yeah,” he said, because he had to say _something_. He smiled, and if it was weak, well, only he had to know that. “I hope we can, at least.” He looked back at the Institute, breath catching in his chest. “They’re going to interrogate Valentine. Everyone’s gonna know what happened.”

“Maybe he’ll tell them who your real parents are,” Simon offered. Jace shook his head.

“Maryse is my mom. That’s what matters, to me, at least.” He didn’t mention Robert. That was still too complicated, too raw for him to work through. He _loved_ Robert, but Robert had hurt Maryse, and that hurt him too. Even if Maryse wasn’t perfect, she didn’t deserve _that_. “Besides, whoever gave birth to me is probably dead.”

Simon shared a look with Clary, not saying anything, that same sort of look going between them as earlier. If they hadn’t loved each other, they would have made excellent parabatai. If any mundane could have ascended before being turned into a vampire, Jace was sure Simon Lewis could have.

But that wasn’t going to happen now, and Jace didn’t pretend that he was thinking that way for any reason that wasn’t selfish.

So maybe for a while he would just… stop thinking. Go to his room, whether at Magnus’s or in the Institute, and just sit. After everything they’d been through, they all deserved rest.

* * *

After… everything, really, Alec needed to be out of the Institute.

He’d spent two hours going through every floor, heart in his throat while he searched for a body. He hadn’t admitted it, even in his own head, but as soon as Clary told him she’d portalled in with Magnus, he’d thought he was dead. He’d been convinced of it until, just after dawn, he’d finally run out of rooms to check and had gone outside.

Magnus’s hand on his arm had felt like a miracle. And Alec had known, despite the fact that they’d only been together for a month, known each other for four, he loved Magnus. He was _in love_ with Magnus. That was the only explanation for that sort of fear, paralyzing and heart-stopping, that he’d had when he’d thought Magnus was dead. He’d still been shaking with it when he confessed, even though the confession had felt more like a revelation, another miracle.

And Magnus loved him back, had said so himself. So maybe it wasn’t weird, that they were still so new. Magnus, well, he’d been with a lot of people, had to have loved at least a few of them. He had to know what falling in love felt like.

Alec smiled, because he couldn’t help it. He was in love, and even if something horrible had happened to show him that, the actual feeling was fantastic.

“You’re grinning,” Magnus said, and Alec pressed a kiss to the side of his head. They were curled up on the patio couch, _their_ spot, Magnus warm and heavy on his chest. All operations had been suspended, the priority being Valentine’s interrogation, and Alec had at least a few hours before someone would call him in. Magnus had a meeting with other Downworlder leaders, but that was at midnight because vampires were, unsurprisingly, dramatic people.

“I love you,” Alec said, because he could. He could say it every day now, because it was true. Magnus linked their fingers together and kissed the back of his hand, and Alec was still surprised by how hard he blushed when he did that. It was just so… gallant. Like a knight in shining armor from a mundane fairy tale.

“I love you too,” Magnus whispered, tilting his chin up in a silent question that Alec answered by tilting his head down. It wouldn’t be comfortable for either of them after a while, but this kiss was worth it, warm and wet and so full of love it made Alec’s chest full and heavy. His chin scraped against Magnus’s goatee, mouth opening so Magnus could lick his way inside before pulling away. Alec must have made a disappointed sound, because Magnus chuckled and pecked his lips one more time. “Maybe we should relocate somewhere with a little more privacy.”

Well, that was certainly an idea. Alec thought about it, then nodded. So far, Magnus hadn’t asked for anything, really, had let Alec take the lead even when he led them to embarrassing places (and, well, at least he hadn’t laughed when Alec _literally_ tripped over his feet, that first time). And Alec appreciated that, he really, really did, but it was nice to know that Magnus wanted this too. Even if all they did was kiss for the rest of the afternoon, it would be because they both wanted it.

He’d sort of expected his desperation to show up again, but it was easy, Magnus’s chest pressed against his, hearts thumping out of sync with each other, to be slow. To just _be with_ another person, pressed together like they were trying to fit into the same space on Magnus’s ridiculously comfortable bed. Even when things got heated it was easier than it had been, easier to let Magnus lay on top of him, pressed together everywhere they could touch. Magnus’s rings weren’t even cold anymore where his hands were wrapped up in Alec’s, pressed onto the bed like they could hold each other in place forever, be safe here for the rest of eternity.

“I love you,” Alec whispered, again and again, and every time Magnus looked surprised to hear it, like no one had ever said it before. So Alec kept saying it, even if it wasn’t supposed to count during sex. If he could surprise Magnus, after all his years on the planet, he must be doing something right.

After, Magnus whispered something against Alec’s skin that wasn’t in English, glamor gone, makeup smeared in Alec’s favorite way (he’d just _stared_ for a while, the morning after the first time, stupid grin on his face because _he did that_ ), and Alec raised his eyebrows. He was pretty sure he knew what Magnus meant, but, well, he didn’t think he would get over hearing it said. If he did, he was pretty sure it would be years in the future, and even that thought was breathtaking, because that meant he would have _years_ with Magnus.

“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus said, and Alec understood why Magnus looked a little shocked every time Alec said it. It was like a tiny bolt of lightning right to his heart, hearing those words when they weren’t just reciprocated. It made them more real, somehow, and he kissed Magnus again, laughing when he felt the beard burn stinging on his lips and chin. “I would say I’d shave, but I like this particular look too much.”

“I do, too,” Alec said, and Magnus beamed. “I grew a little beard once and Izzy threatened to hold me down and shave it off, so I haven’t tried to grow one since then.”

“Now _there’s_ a thought,” Magnus said, and his eyes got hazy just like when he was staring at Alec’s chest.

“Maybe someday,” Alec said. “I don’t think I could pull off a goatee, but…”

“Whatever you like, Alexander. And who says you can’t try different things out?” He rubbed at Alec’s chin like he was thinking about hair being there, and Alec wondered if Magnus would like the burn as much as Alec did. The marks Alec left on his neck and chest were different, but maybe in practice…

But if he kept thinking like that they wouldn’t leave the bed, and Alec _did_ have to make sure Aldertree knew that he was still in charge, even if they had half a moment on that roof. Just seeing Izzy, still so strung out and weak from Yin Fen, had ruined any comradery that could have grown from that.

Also, he was _wrong_ , and Alec knew it. He could love Magnus, have a relationship with Magnus, because there wasn’t any basic nature that was fighting against them. It had taken him a long time to get past that way of thinking, and he would probably be fighting it for the rest of his life in one way or another, but he _would_ fight. This was too precious not to.

But he could take a nap first.

* * *

Maia didn’t know if she could forgive Luke for what he’d done. They were burying half their pack tonight, including Luke’s best friend, and for what? For shadowhunters? For a war with people who _all_ wanted them gone?

For Clary Fairchild, of course. She sneered through her tears, because of _course_ it was for her. A shadowhunter just like the rest of them, without even the decency that _Jace Wayland_ had had, coming to them and saying he hadn’t known that that would happen. He was the only shadowhunter who had come to the pack, and he hadn’t asked for their forgiveness. Clary hadn’t set a precious _foot_ near the Jade Wolf since her boyfriend miraculously survived the Soul Sword and became a Daylighter.

Maia was in human form right now, because their funeral rituals didn’t actually involve howling at the moon, and she wondered how that had even happened. Maybe an angel had come down from heaven to bless a vampire, since they were apparently involving themselves in their lives now.

 _We never asked for their help_ , Maia thought, weeping and holding one of the younger pack members to her chest so the kid could get comfort from _someone_. Their alpha certainly wasn’t going to offer it, wrapped up in his own shit like he was right now. He was standing beside Alaric’s burnt body, stoic in everything except for a bent head, and Maia wanted to snarl at him, to snap at him, to _challenge_ him, and that shocked her so badly that she actually stopped crying for a minute.

She wouldn’t do it, of course. But… she looked around the room, where half of the people were crying out of sheer grief, and the other half were shooting venomous looks at Luke through their tears. The people who had died had been _loyal_ to Luke, leaving only the youngest, who couldn’t fight, and the ones who weren’t sure about his leadership. Except for Maia, and she didn’t know if she trusted Luke anymore.

 _I might not trust him, but I don’t want him dead_ , she thought, staring at her alpha. He’d been through hell, and maybe he hadn’t made a single good decision since Jocelyn Fairchild died, but he’d made the right ones before, and he could do it again. Now that they knew Clary wasn’t the person who could activate the Soul Sword, now that the Seelies didn’t want to kill her on sight, maybe he could change, get better. Jace Wayland was harder to kill, after all, and Luke didn’t care about him nearly as much. And the Soul Sword was gone. With Valentine locked up, it wasn’t nearly as great of a threat, right?

She slipped the kid – Joan, a born wolf whose father had died in the Institute – to Carrie, who had wanted to come to the battle but had just found out she was pregnant, who had lost her husband to this war. The silence was heavy as she walked forward, all eyes on her.

Slipping her hand into Luke’s wasn’t hard, after all the crap he’d put her through. She wasn’t forgiving him, after all, just showing the rest of the pack that if someone wanted to get to Luke, they would have to go through her. She didn’t have to _love_ Luke to do that, didn’t even have to like or trust him. He would be better than the other options, and that was what mattered to her. She met his eyes, wet and half green like he would change at any moment.

 _I’m with you_ , she thought but didn’t say. _Where you lead, I’ll follow, so please don’t do anything so stupid again_.

For the first time in a while, since Jace Wayland came into her bar, in fact, she thought maybe things would be alright.


End file.
